


i would write your story, on you

by majesdane



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-24
Updated: 2009-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Everything feels like it's taking forever. But then it feels like it's moving too fast.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	i would write your story, on you

_  
que mes baisers soient les mots d'amour que je ne te dis pas._

 

 

She barely sleeps at all that night.

She's too anxious, too on edge; she wakes up terrified, eyes flying open, hands seeking out Naomi in the dark, desperately, as if this will be the time when she opens her eyes and Naomi isn't there. She is though, always, and Emily breathes a shaky sigh of relief, tries to calm her frantically beating heart. She's here; they're safe. Sometimes Naomi's back is to her -- she curls up against her, wrapping her arms as best as she can around Naomi's waist, nuzzling up against her neck -- or they're lying face to face -- Emily presses the softest of kisses to Naomi's lips, forehead, nose, brushes the hair away from Naomi's face -- but she's always there. Constant. For a moment, she's calm, satisfied; she knows that she's not alone.

(Being alone scares her more now than it ever did before. Before, she didn't mind it so much, just focused on the seeking rather than the getting, but now she's gotten what she wanted, and she's happy, she is, it's just, she didn't expect it to be so scary.)

It all seems so unreal, these past few months have all seemed so fucking _unreal_ , like she just imagined everything, as if this couldn't actually be happening. It feels like one very long, tiring but pleasant dream (dreams always have happy endings, don't they?) and that at any given time it's all going to vanish, when Katie shakes her roughly awake to tell her to hurry the fuck up, because they're late for college. And yet, it feels so real, too real almost, sometimes, and the colors hurt her eyes and Naomi's kisses are too much and she has to pull away. Naomi in front of her, sleeping, breathing in slow and even, the smoothness of her palm when they hold hands (the way they held them last night at the ball, the coolness of the cement steps under her bare feet), the way Emily worked to undo the buttons on Naomi's dress -- it was only hours ago, some of it, but it feels like it's been ages.

Everything feels like it's taking forever. But then it feels like it's moving too fast.

She comes so quickly, arching up and crying out, Naomi licking her fingers clean with a satisfied smile that makes Emily shiver all over again and desperately want more, even though her limbs and throat ache and her fringe is damp with sweat and clinging to her forehead. It's not enough, it's never enough; Naomi will ruin her.

Propping herself up on an elbow, she bows her head and kisses Naomi as lightly as possible. And then she kisses her again and again and again, each time just a bit harder, until Naomi begins to wake, stirring, pushing back against Emily, a drowsy, half-open mouth kind of kiss. Emily smiles, satisfied with herself, watches as Naomi slowly opens her eyes. She doesn't say a word, just keeps on smiling until Naomi manages to give her a sleepy smile in return, and then Emily leans forward and presses their lips together gently. She puts her hand on Naomi's shoulder, thumb stroking her bare skin, rubs their noses together.

And because there's a feeling in her so strong that she feels like she's going to burst, she kisses Naomi again, murmurs against her lips, "I love you. Oh, fuck, I _do_ love you."

It doesn't matter if Naomi says anything or not, doesn't matter if she never says it again, that she loves her in return (well, it does matter a little bit; Emily's throat closes up at the thought of never begin told that again, even if they're only words, and they're not louder than actions). And when Naomi rolls over onto her back, stretching her arms up and over her head, Emily shifts further, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the space between Naomi's breasts.

Naomi sighs, runs a hand through Emily's hair, stroking it gently. Emily can't breathe; she's suddenly struck with the image of her heart in Naomi's hand, her fingers wrapped around it, squeezing so hard that it hurts and makes her head spin. And she almost wants to cry, because this is too _real_ , it can't possibly true, and Naomi looks beautiful, _is_ beautiful, always, always, even with morning breath and mussed hair and last night's makeup faded and smeared.

She straddles Naomi, the sheets and blankets falling and bunching up around her waist. She strokes the undersides of Naomi's breasts, watches as Naomi inhales sharply, as her eyes flutter closed. She reaches out and puts a hand on Emily's hip, gripping it, as if to steady herself. She's still half-asleep, and Emily dips her head down, kisses the hollow space at the base of her neck while her hands slide up to cover Naomi's breasts with her hands, thumbs brushing lightly against nipples; Emily feels them harden beneath her touch, Naomi pushing up into her hands encouragingly.

When Emily bends down, grinning, to brush her lips along the curve of Naomi's jaw, against her lips, Naomi wraps her arms around Emily's neck and pulls her down the rest of the way for a proper kiss, bodies pressed together, her thigh between Naomi's legs. She's already wet, just from this, and Emily finds herself suddenly wet too, and filled with an desire that she's not sure Naomi's tongue or fingers will ever quell.

It's half-open mouth kisses they exchange, the kind that Emily likes best, when she shifts to make things easier, her hand drifting down between Naomi's thighs, fingers sliding against her clit. Naomi gasps and reaches over and behind her head, gripping her pillow, eyes squeezed shut. Emily grins again, moving her fingers against Naomi again, one, twice, before dipping her fingers inside, groaning at just how wet Naomi is and getting even wetter herself.

"Please," Naomi groans, arching up against her hand, and Emily kisses her, hard.

"Say it," she whispers against Naomi's lips, fingers stilling. "Say that you love me."

Naomi moans, presses her hand flat along the curve of Emily's back. "I love you," she murmurs, and Emily kisses her again and starts moving her fingers once again, harder and more purposefully this time.

"Don't stop," she tells Naomi, and Naomi moans and doesn't, repeating the phrase over until it's all just one long continuous word -- _IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou_ \-- murmuring it softly, while Emily's fingers move against her, in short, jerky strokes, kissing her neck, sucking hard on the spot where Naomi's neck meets her collarbone.

She drags it out for as long as she can, making love to Naomi, because she likes to watch her, the muscles in her arms, stomach, tensing and relaxing, the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the way her hair looks splayed out on the pillow. She drags her tongue over a nipple, before taking it into her mouth; she can feel Naomi push up against her, and she likes how Naomi reaches forward and tangles her fingers in her hair, desperate.

And then she kisses Naomi, tongue sliding along her bottom lip, strokes harder, quicker, lets her come, because she can only stand to torture Naomi for so long (even if it is the good kind of torture, slow and agonizing and brilliant all at once). And besides, she likes this Naomi best anyway, panting, sweaty, trying to catch her breath inbetween frantic kisses. She likes having Naomi want and need her like this, coming down and completely spent, but still not wanting for them to fall apart just yet.

And then Emily rolls off, because she actually does want to give Naomi a chance to catch her breath properly, and for a while they just lie there; Naomi reaches over and takes Emily's hand in her own, threading their fingers together, her thumb stroking the back of Emily's hand. Emily sighs, closes her eyes. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest and she doesn't know why or how to slow it down.

Naomi moves over, kisses her cheek, trails kisses down Emily's neck, drags her tongue down between Emily's breasts, takes a nipple into her mouth. Emily groans and tugs Naomi until she's on top of her, hands and mouth everywhere at once, it seems. And then Naomi gives her a wicked grin and a chaste kiss and slides down between her legs, and Emily cries out quietly, arches up, clutches at the sheets.

(She will never tire of this, feeling like her skin is on fire, Naomi's nails digging into her thighs, the way her fringe sticks to her forehead with sweat, how she has to remind herself to breathe.)

"Oh, don't stop, please, oh, Naomi," she pants, on edge, and Naomi pushes two fingers into her, working until Emily comes with a shudder, fireworks going off behind her eyelids, her whole body aching.

She kisses Naomi as fiercely as she can, pulling her up and wrapping her arms around her, tasting herself on Naomi's tongue. She can feel Naomi smiling into the kiss and it only serves to want to kiss her more, until their lips are bruised and sore and they're breathless.

Later, when they lie in bed, side by side, Naomi on her stomach, watching as Emily traces shapes and patterns on her back, fingers moving idly, it almost feels like time has stopped for them completely. She kisses Naomi's shoulder, nuzzles against her, and it doesn't make her heart beat any slower, still beating senselessly fast and hard, so much that she feels like her ribs are cracking. Naomi kisses her wrist, palm, knuckles, fingers, like she does each and every time after they've made love.

And still she feels like bursting.


End file.
